


a bed of lillies

by saernamaz



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, also marlas probably didn't happen at all and all is well and good in this world, the regent doesn't exist in this because fuck him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22861318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saernamaz/pseuds/saernamaz
Summary: As soon as he arrived to court, Ancel could not look elsewhere. His eyes always found themselves on the young prince.On one fateful night, his desires became a reality, as he met the young prince, and grazed his hands upon his body.
Relationships: Laurent/Ancel (Captive Prince)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	a bed of lillies

**Author's Note:**

> In Iranian poetry, lillies are a symbol of chastity, goodness and beauty, as well as luckiness and love. Thus the title!
> 
> Vere is based on a loose mix between India and Persia (my cultures lol). Also none of them are white because I can do so. Their "olive skin" are not Damen's/Akielons' rich brown skin, but a fair medium skin tone, with cold golden undertone, similarly to Persian/Arab/Jewish people. 
> 
> I don't know what possessed me to write this except that I saw people on Tumblr beginning to picture them together and I saw like, "wow, this is visual poetry." And so this baby was born. 
> 
> Laurent is 18, whereas Ancel is 19.

As soon as he had arrived to court, Ancel could not look elsewhere. His eyes always found themselves on the young prince, even when he was sitting in some mindless lord’s lap. He had heard tales of his beauty from the nobles he served, of how beautiful the young prince was, his jewelry shining in the candlelight, complimenting his soft golden hair, the color of the angels’s trumpets, highlight his deep, innocent blue eyes, but the prince was even more beautiful than the idea of him Ancel dreamed.

He had a youthful beauty at eighteen, delicate and pampered. He wore an intricate lengha choli, in the style of the capital, a deep red short top, leaving most of his upper body exposed under the shawl he had over his shoulder and an assorted pair of pants. His fine muscle, those of a rider, glowed and twisted pleasantly as he danced to the rhythm of the sitar. Ancel found himself entranced with him, and a fleeting heat flooded his body. It was an amusing mesh of reverence and lust, and it left him in an excellent mood.

He spent the night going from laps to laps, tasting sweets off blurry faces’ fingers, grinding easily on them, imagining it was the prince underneath him. Unconsciously, he slowly made his way to the royal table, where the prince was sitting next to the young King - his brother - and laughing softly at His Majesty’s rambling. Ancel watched them. He knew he was sitting in front of the table, because he did not feel any hands on his tights, and he felt vertiginous. The pair did not pay him any attention, so he simply absorbed the scene, the soft breaths the prince took, the way his cheeks turned a pale pink from the warmth of the ballroom, his subdued words, his hushed voice barely audible but pleasing and slightly high.

Some time after, a royal pet boldly approached the King, and the man let him, under the amused gaze of his brother. It was late, and most courtiers were asleep on a divan, their qalyan forgotten in their mouths, or playing with pets themselves. The King excused themselves and left cheerily with the young man that solicited him. The prince was left alone, laughing quietly and watching the room fall into a faint light, candles burning to their end. And then his eyes landed on Ancel, and he tilted his head, a content smile on his face still. The pet walked up to the table and stood in front of the prince, who watched him curiously.

”Are you alright?” the prince asked softly, almost as if he was afraid to startle him. Ancel realized that it was because he was staring at him with comically wide eyes and dark pupils.

”Just admiring your beauty, your Highness. Paintings do not do you justice. I am Ancel.”

Ancel feared that he had been too bold in his approach, and that the words that fell unconsciously of his mouth might scare the child, but the prince blushed and gave him a shy smile. Ancel knew that he had been courted many times, and that people wrote poems about his beauty, or more crudely, in taverns, of how good he would be under the singer’s hands. But he also knew that the prince was barely a man, pampered and spoiled by his older brother, who had chased any old man trying to win his precious brother’s favors, and that any compliment ought to get a reaction out of a second son, discarded and neglected by his father, and who grew shy and almost isolate. Each compliment, no matter how bold or superficial, must feel like a nirvana to him.

”You are very kind. You are very handsome yourself, _Ancel_.”

It was the first time anyone called Ancel handsome. Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, he had heard countless time, but never handsome. He was a slim young man, shaped like a dancer sure, but the silks he wore carefully hid his tights as to maintain a façade of youth and a delicate body. He chuckled behind his hand and, under the prince’s playful gaze, jumped on the table, discarding any etiquette he knew, and hoped on a chair next to him. Alcohol made the youth lenient, and he did not say anything, watching Ancel curiously, and almost admiringly.

”You are very bold, jumping on a royal table as such.”

The young man’s voice hid no heat. It was amused somehow, and his smile comforted that idea. Ancel smiled presumptuously and leaned to graze his ear with his lips, enjoying the little shiver that run through him. ”I can be bolder even, if your Highness would let me.”

*********

They found themselves kissing erotically, slowly, passionately, in an empty hallway, Ancel pressing the prince firmly against a wall and kissing, licking, biting every parcel of skin exposed; his jaw, his neck, his collar. The prince sighted fairly beneath him, letting his control go as Ancel discovered him. Ancel’s hands roamed his body leisurely, caressing the silks still covering him or the warm skin of his abdomen. Each new thing he learnt about the noble’s body made him crave him even more intensely, desiring him squirming and moaning all night, and to never part from him. He discovered that the young man loved having his hip bone caressed, how sensitive his collar was and how each time Ancel licked him there it made him shiver and _moan_ , that the prince loved to be bitten and marked, to release control and duties after controlling every part of his day.

The pet slowly felt arousal harden his prick, and he let out a breathy ‘ _please_ ’, as he thrusts his pelvis against the other boy’s tight. The prince made a tiny noise of pleasure, a high pitched muffled sound that got caught in his throat and Ancel almost came just from that and he chastised himself for forgetting himself in the moment. The blonde pointed to a nearby door, and Ancel understood that they were his quarters, thankfully free of guards.

He did not part from the boy as he pushed the door open, the prince’s body still attached to him, his curves fitting perfectly against his body, and crossed the salon to his bedroom. If his mind was not so clouded with desire, he would have admired the rich architecture there, and marvel at the beautiful designs and the bright colors, but he only had the boy on his mind, panting slightly, and hot beneath his hands. They fell on the bed and continued kissing, until the prince pushed him slightly, his eyes glassy and soft under the low glow of the moon outside.

”Wait, please, let me light some candles. I want to see you.”

Ancel let him go, and immediately regretted the cold that came upon him. The prince diligently lit the candles of his room, bathing the room in gold. Ancel could see every detail of the prince now, from his tousled hair, who curled slightly now that the beauty products he used started to wear off, his dilated pupils who almost hid the calming blue of his eyes, his smooth olive skin, the soft freckles that were hidden with make up, the constellations of beauty marks on his entire body. Ancel felt the urge to bow before him, for he was under the impression that he in front of a nymph that a boy from Delpha once described to him. His mouth watered and he tentatively stretched out a hand toward him, and the prince walked to him and took his hand in his and kissed it. He took a finger in his mouth, slowly, but how so erotically that Ancel gasped.

The prince slid down to his knees, in front of Ancel sitting on his bed, and continued to lick and suck his fingers, tentatively. He was inexperimented, almost demure in the way he did it, and that made Ancel flare up with lust. He must have been one of the few lucky young men to have the chance to touch and be touched by the prince, and the thought alone made me dizzy.

”You’re teasing, your Highness,” he said, his voice shaky and jocose.

The man in front of him stopped and blushed slightly. ”Call me Laurent, _please_.” His voice was a whisper, and his warm breath felt immensely good on Ancel’s wet fingers. ”Can I… Can I suck you off?”

Ancel moaned at his words, spoken with a newfound confidence, while he looked at him through his lashes. His prick was almost painfully hard by now, and Ancel groaned and nodded, unable to formulate a clear sentence. Laurent took it for what it was, a permission, and freed Ancel from his silken sirwal. He took him in his hand, his long fingers frapping how so gently around his length, and he spit on it to lubrifiante it a bit, as he pumped gently. Ancel did not thrust in his hand by sheer willpower, and stared at his prince, a noble, in front of him, teasing the head of his hardened cock and kitten licking it playfully. His thoughts were incoherent by now, and he could only breath out soft praises, who made the prince whimper and moan happily around his cock, rewarding the words by engulfing his shaft even further in his mouth, almost to the point of gagging sometimes, and suck harder, with the intention to make Ancel come, the tease coming to an end, replaced by lust and arousal, deep and consummating. And Ancel did come, when Laurent had released his cock to breath. White smeared his face, dripping off his expensive nath. The prince laughed good-naturedly, as Ancel fell on the bed, panting. He wanted to apologize for his moment of disregard, but Laurent must not have been waiting on one, for he climbed on top of Ancel, straddling him, and kissed him, very chastely, with adoring eyes.

Ancel’s gaze strained on his face, covered in _his_ seed, and he felt himself become roused again. It felt so deeply satisfying to have a creature as divine and unreachable as the _prince_ , feeling giddy and pleased at having a pet’s cum on _his_ face. Ancel deepened the kiss, tasting himself off his tongue, before cupping Laurent’s face gently in his hands and licking the remnants of his pleasure off his face. The prince panted beneath him and started to grind on his cock, who slowly became hard again. The older man brought them in a sitting position , and kissed Laurent’s neck, his hands resting on his hips, accompanying the rotation movement the prince did in his lap. The prince was shivering pleasantly, warm and sensitive, and he removed his top, slowly and antagonizing, as Ancel wandered further down. He took the invitation and took one of his nipple in his mouth, testing the sensation and playing with the soft bud, and the prince arched beneath him.

”Please,” he said shakily, his hands gripping at Ancel’s shoulders. ”I need you _Ancel_.”

The way Laurent said his name, in a high, sensually breathy voice, sent a shiver down his spine. His hands wander inside the prince’s sirwal, groping his cheeks delicately, caressing the smooth skin, while he continued to gently mark the prince’s torso, bitting bruises into the perfect, flawless skin there. The prince moaned, his sounds growing higher and higher as Ancel skimmed his body in loving gestures. His lovemaking sessions were never like this, never so passionate and intense, so slow and loving. Old men never lasted, only asked him to be pliant beneath him and to act as a doll as they had their way with him. To them, he was a pet. To the prince, he was simply Ancel, laid bare and adoring. They shared the control and the pleasure, caressing each other, kissing each other’s body, panting in each other’s arms. Sex felt genuine with the prince.

As their hands continued to explore their respective body, they lost the remnant of their clothes. The prince had kept his jewels, and his earrings swayed gently as he continued to grind on Ancel’s cock. It was a slow danse, a non penetrative lovemaking that made them both shiver. Ancel felt the prince’s shaft on his abdomen, and pressed himself closer still to the prince, caressing him with his body instead of his hands. The prince whimpered at the overwhelming friction, his body stimulated to its apogee, and Ancel felt him cry a little, water dripping on his own cheek pressed against Laurent’s face. The prince came with a strangled cry, hands tangled in Ancel’s hair, lips ghosting over his Adam’s apple. His whole body was relaxed against Ancel, and the boy held his prince tighter, whispering sweet nothing in his ear, as he continued to move his hips, thrusting his cock between his cheeks.

”Laurent, I want to _feel_ you, would you let me?”

”Yes, Ancel, anything with you.”

Ancel felt the prince smile on his neck, and he brought two fingers to his own lip, sucking the digits assiduously until they were thoroughly wet, and brought it down, circling Laurent’s hole gently. The prince’s hips bucked under the soft gesture, and Ancel very cautiously let a finger pass through the crown of muscle, seeking the warmth of the body on top of him. Arousal made Laurent lax under his ministrations, and he inserted a second finger, gently, caressing the soft hair of his partner. He took it well, and the other boy started to grind down, fucking himself slowly on his fingers and breathing out his name in a plea. Ancel continued to prepare him, as he kissed his collar, until he felt Laurent squirm and _beg_ him to fill him. Lust took control and the need to penetrate him with his manhood subdued any other wishes.

He penetrated him slowly, until Laurent was completely sitting in his lap, and he could only taste the warmth that radiate out of his entire body. It felt so intense and dizzying that Ancel let himself fall on the bed, anchoring Laurent on his cock with a firm grip on his hips. The prince moaned as started to move on his length, moving back and forth on his cock and Ancel groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pleasure, and felt a single tear of joy roll down his temple. The man on top of him put his hands on his torso, caressing his nipples softly, drawing soft breaths out of them both.Somewhere in their little tango, they forgot how to speak, how to form other words than the other’s name. Ancel’s grip on Laurent’s hips became complaisant, and the prince took it as a permission to start bouncing, drawing himself up and down by the sheer force of his tights. Ancel wanted to bless the man that introduced Vere to riding and made it a royal sport. Ancel let Laurent do all the work, preferring to watch the prince arch on top of him. He looked divine, in a wrecked sense, like an angel that tasted earthly pleasure for the first time. Ancel’s hands went up on his body, resting on his neck. He did not squeeze, simply put his hands there, as a support, an anchor for his lover,perhaps even a possessive gesture. Laurent brought one of his hand to rest on top of them, and moaned softly. Ancel could feel the vibrations of the sounds on the tip of his fingers and he bathed in the sensation.

The prince continued to sway on his shaft, faster and faster, until his eyes closed and his whole body tensed. His hole clenched around Ancel as his orgasm hit him. He continued to fuck himself through his climax, until Ancel spilled in him too, breathing his name and caressing his neck. Laurent did not dismount him, keeping still on top of Ancel as he regained his composure.

”Thank you,” the prince said finally, with a loving smile.

Ancel sat on the bed, holding Laurent carefully to keep him on his cock, and he kissed him softly, amorously, longingly. ”I think I might be falling in love with you, your Highness.”

**Author's Note:**

> A lengha choli is a traditionally feminine outfit in India, but I can do whatever I want, so I decided that men in Vere wear them too. Laurent's is based on Mastani's (Deepika Padukone) in the Pinga scene (go check it out on Youtube, I love this scene so much), from the movie Bajirao Mastani. 
> 
> A nath is a nose ring, sometimes linked to the hair with a long chain, often richly decorated or ornamented (as is the case here). Also it's traditionally to indicate that a woman is married, but in Vere, it's really just because they love jewelry and to flaunt their wealth. 
> 
> A qalyan is the Persian word for a hookah, a multi-stemmed instrument for vaporizing and smoking flavored tobacco. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it !  
> Also I am really starting to like this universe and this pairing so I *might* a sequel, because I love the way I wrote this relationship...


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